So, I learned a new word! Tsundoku—quite a mouthful, isn’t it? But don’t worry, I won’t ask you to say it three times fast. It sounds like something you might say when you sneeze, but it’s a fascinating Japanese term that perfectly describes my relationship with books. You see, tsundoku is the art of buying books and never quite getting around to reading them instead.
And why am I suddenly writing about tsundoku?
You’ll see…
Let’s start with this… you walk into a bookstore, and the allure of books surrounds you like a siren’s call. You can’t help but be drawn to the colorful covers, the tantalizing blurbs, and the promise of adventures within their pages. It’s a magnetic force that pulls you in, and before you know it, you find yourself clutching a stack of books, ready to bring them home and add them to your ever-growing collection.
If you could see my living space right now, you’d understand why tsundoku is such a relevant word in my life. I have stacks upon stacks of books, forming their little literary mountains. Some are teetering precariously, threatening to unleash an avalanche of words at any moment. It’s a beautiful chaos—a testament to my insatiable appetite for the written word and my complete inability to resist the lure of a bookstore, online and offline.
But here’s the funny thing about tsundoku, it’s not just about the act of buying books. No, no. It’s a journey—a never-ending adventure through the realms of imagination and knowledge.
You see, every book on my piles holds the promise of a new experience, a new perspective, or a new escape from reality. They whisper, “Pick me up! Dive into my pages! Discover the wonders within!” And I can’t help but be tempted.
But amidst the humor and the excitement, there’s also a tinge of guilt that comes with tsundoku. I look at my unread books and can’t help but feel a pang of remorse for neglecting them. They sit there patiently, waiting for me to fulfill the promise I made when I brought them home. And yet, life gets in the way—responsibilities, distractions, and oh, so many other books that catch my eye.
But you know what? I’ve come to realize that tsundoku is not a problem to be solved; it’s a celebration of my love for books, it’s a shared experience—a literary adventure waiting to happen. It’s a reminder of the never-ending journey of exploration and discovery that awaits me. Each unread book is a treasure, a hidden gem waiting to be unearthed.
How about this…you find yourself amid a mountain of unread books, surrounded by towering stacks that seem to have a life of their own. They loom over you, whispering stories untold and knowledge unexplored. It’s like having your library, curated by your eclectic tastes and insatiable curiosity.
But how did these piles come to be? Each book has its own story. Some were impulse buys, snatched from the shelves with excitement. Others were thoughtful selections, carefully chosen to expand your horizons or delve into a beloved genre. And let’s not forget the recommendations—the books that friends, family, or that overly enthusiastic bookseller swore would change your life.
But as time goes on, the piles grow taller, and the guilt starts to creep in. We become collectors of books rather than readers of books, accumulating more and more without making a dent in the ever-expanding stack. It’s like a game of Jenga, but instead of carefully removing blocks, we keep adding to the tower, hoping it won’t topple over.
But here’s the thought-provoking part: tsundoku is not just about the unread books; it’s about the potential they hold. Each book represents a gateway to another world, a chance to learn something new, to be entertained, or to see the world from a different perspective. It’s a reminder of our insatiable hunger for knowledge, our thirst for stories, and our innate curiosity about the human experience.
So, my fellow tsundoku enthusiasts, let’s embrace our piles of unread books with a twinkle in our eyes and a smile on our faces. Let’s turn our bookshelves into portals of possibility, where every book holds a promise of adventure, insight, and laughter. And remember, the journey through tsundoku is not about the destination—it’s about the joy of discovery, the excitement of anticipation, and the love affair we have with the written word.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a cup of tea, a cozy reading nook, and that book that has been patiently waiting for my attention.
Happy reading, my friends, and may your tsundoku always bring you joy!
